


Verbal Calisthenics (English Majors Do It With Pulchritude)

by tourdefierce



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Hipsters, M/M, Pretentious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tourdefierce/pseuds/tourdefierce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris figures his love life out... it's like rainbows but gayer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Verbal Calisthenics (English Majors Do It With Pulchritude)

**Author's Note:**

> This is in no uncertain terms a birthday present for royal_chandler! I adore her and I hope she enjoys this. Special thanks to luvscharlie, roflolmaomg and hitlikehammers, who beta'd this. Thank you.
> 
> Originally posted to LJ: February 23rd, 2010.

Chris was an angsty motherfucker.

He was completely aware of this fact. He had the capacity to take on an idea and fold it up, stick it in his mouth and chew on it... for months. He would brood about it. Well, he wasn't fully aware of his brood until Zach came around and informed him that he was a brooding breeder and that he should get his shit together. Well, if Chris was angsty, then Zach was a bitch. It was a comforting thought.

So as the press tour was wrapping up, with everyone pretending to collect their luggage at baggage claim (when really they had assistants for that), Chris wasn't really paying attention to Zach and Zoe, who were standing across the turn-style from him and _inspecting_ him with their evil, judgmental glares of doom. They had been doing that since Chris had boarded the plane, and Chris was kind of sick of it. Whatever. They'd tell him when they were tired of being ignored.

"You off for home again?"

Chris glanced away from Zoe and Zach to look at Karl, who was chewing gum and looking at him thoughtfully. Chris shrugged.

"Guess so. It'll be weird sleeping in my own bed again."

They both paused.

"That's what she said," Karl said with a sly grin. It was the grin--playful and careful, like everything was a big secret, that had Chris giggling and leaning against Karl's broad shoulders. Karl always smelled fantastic, no matter how long they were filming or how many interviews they did-- in fact, Chris had no shame in admitting to breaking into Karl's suitcase looking for his cologne but he never did find it.  
They laughed for a while, the stress of flying and the long press tour easing off their minds. Chris was home; he should be thankful for that. He could practically smell the L.A. smog from where he was standing.

"You going back to your homeland?" Chris joked, nodding at his assistant who was looking for his bags.

"Actually, I'm going to stick 'round L.A. for a bit."

Chris looked back at Karl, the tone of his voice guarded and the tightness of the skin around his mouth making Chris frown. He had an overwhelming urge to reach out and smooth away the lines around Karl's mouth. But as quickly as the urge came, it flickered away and the ease returned to Karl's face, a smile tugging back at his lips. Chris sighed, relief worming its way inside of him-- he would worry later.

"Looks like I'm ready to go," Karl said as he gestured to his own assistant, who was wrestling with Karl's bag, full of souvenirs for his children. "I'll see you around."

Chris snapped out of his daze, focusing on what Karl was saying instead of the shape of his mouth.

"Yeah! Hey, maybe we can get together while you're around," Chris stuttered out, afraid he had been rude not to offer before. "That is, if you aren't sick of me yet."

The smile Chris got was bright and contagious. Suddenly, it was blindingly apparent that Chris might actually _miss_ Karl.

He blinked.

Karl nodded and started to walk away. Chris couldn’t help but grab his arm; the suffocating feeling that maybe Karl thought his offer was insincere was too much to handle. "Seriously, hit me up while you're here. You know I don't have a life," Chris said and tried not to press his fingers too hard into the smooth skin of Karl's bicep. Karl nodded again, and Chris swore he saw Karl's shoulders relax. Karl departed and Chris was left standing at the turn-style, watching Karl grab his suitcase from his assistant and take long strides to the exit doors.

It occurred, rather suddenly, that he forgot to ask Karl where he was staying while he was in town. Chris kicked himself mentally, watching Karl lift his suitcase outside and into the waiting car. He then realized that he'd been staring. Wow. In fact, that whole interaction between him and Karl was just strange. What was wrong with him?

"Chris-"

"Christopher," Zach said right after Zoe as they flanked him from both sides. Zach looked surprised but still pissy. Zoe had a look of sympathy on her face-- the one she gave to the fashion challenged and abandoned puppies. Obviously, Chris got these looks often.

"What?" Chris replied as he glanced back to watch Karl's car drive away.

"So, remember when I said you were a brooding breeder that needed to get his shit together?"

Chris raised an eyebrow. Why was Zach so freaking weird? Chris looked to Zoe, who just glared past him at Zach.

"Well, I lied. You're actually-"

"Zach," Zoe warned.

"-just a confused homo that is so far shoved up into his closet that he's choking on angst instead of cock like a good little gaylet should be."

Chris blinked.

"God, Zach, could you be a bit more gentle? Or just less crude?" Zoe admonished before pinching Zach's arm. 

Chris blinked again and glanced from Zach, who looked smug and pissed off all at the same time, then back to Zoe. Where was the sympathy? And what the hell was Zach going on about?    "What?" Chris asked in a very eloquent way that had Zach rolling his eyes and stalking away.

"What Zach is trying to say," Zoe started before she was interrupted with an 'I already said it, bitch' from Zach, who was arguing with his own assistant about how many bags he had checked in. "What Zach and I are trying to tell you," Zoe continued, "is that you're in love with Karl."

Wait. What? "Excuse me?"

"You're in love with Karl."

Chris sputtered. "That's ridiculous, Zoe. Did you guys drink too much on the plane? Or did you smoke what Anton had left over, because I warned you-"

"You are so gay for Karl that it hurts my eyes," Zoe interrupted and glared at him. "Rainbow and unicorn gay for Karl the Kiwi."

Chris blinked and wondered if he had gotten off the plane in a completely different universe than the one he’d boarded in. He stared at Zoe, eyebrows begging her to explain.

"Seriously, think about it, baby, and call us when you're ready to talk," Zoe said before stroking his arm and flouncing off to join Zach, completely ignoring Chris' obvious indignation.

What had just happened?

<3<3<3

The ride home from the airport was quiet. His assistant did whatever it is that she does, and an hour later Chis was being dropped off at the curb to his house with two suitcases around him. She said a quick 'text you' as she drove off. She didn't even help him unpack. What good was it to have a personal assistant if all she did was bitch and glare? Chris wasn't sure but he didn't have time to dwell on it because he had shit to do.

His house smelt a little stale, and he opened a few windows before he glanced in his fridge, which held mayo and a rotting apple, and then dashed off to his car. The ride to the grocery store was short, and Chris didn't turn on the radio because the silence was welcome. See, a good brood was coming-- Chris could _feel it in his bones_. And a good brood-- and by that he meant one that was productive and lasted no longer than five days-- required rations. Supplies for awesome sandwiches were purchased and a full stock of breakfast food was wrangled into his cart as quickly as possible before Chris was back in his tiny car and off to Best Buy.

Two hours later, Chris unloaded his loot into his house and locked the door with an air of finality. He wouldn't be opening the door for anyone but the take out delivery boy for the next three days-- at least.

The piles of groceries got loaded into the fridge in a meticulous order and then reorganized therein until Chris sighed with relief and stuck a pickle in his mouth.

Then he frowned.

<3<3<3

It was three o'clock in the morning when Chris finally regained consciousness. The TV was blaring the second season of the West Wing and there were tears running down his face. The alarms on the screen were going off and someone was making a choked noise as a White House staffer was being wheeled in on a gurney, blood staining his clothes. Chris stared, absently wiping at his cheeks but noticing that the flow hadn't stemmed. 

He took a few deep breaths before walking to the kitchen, drinking ice tea directly out of the pitcher and stuffing an entire Hostess Cupcake into his mouth.  

<3<3<3

 

Chris watched the entire second season, skipped the third and watched the fourth before he started to panic. He was still curled in a tangled pile of blankets on the couch and contemplated building a double decker sandwich with twice the amount of bacon, heavy for anyone in their lifetime, when his phone vibrated against the glass of his coffee table.

 _1 new text message_  
 **ZACH:** How's the big gay freakout coming along, princess?  

Chris closed his eyes and stuffed his crackberry into the couch cushions.  

He'd make a sandwich later. 

<3<3<3

 

A package of bacon later and Chris was ready to resurrect his phone.

 _4 new text messages_    
 **ZOE:** zq is sorry for being a jackass are you okay bb? 

 **ZOE:** chris, call us when you are ready to talk

 **ZACH:** Have you killed yourself yet, Virginia Woolf?  

 **MOM:** i thnk ur dads a commie.    

Chris quickly and effectively disassembled his phone and shoved all the pieces underneath the couch. His only thought was that now he couldn't call Karl. Not that he would want to or had been thinking about it or... anything.  

Chris suddenly realized that even his own desires were turning traitor and he desperately needed a drink. And maybe a cigarette. Or maybe Zach was right and Chris needed rocks in his pockets and a large river to forge.  

<3<3<3

 

Chris was on the edge. 

He could feel it; the brooding was rolling around like an angry, thrashy storm of doom that was rattling around _in his mind_ \--all of which was fine and good, except that Chris felt like he was missing something. As much as Zach would like to think that Chris was having a big gay freakout, Zach was a few years late. Chris went to college. Hell, he was an English major! If he hadn't fallen prey to at least one dangerously smart, Kerouac toting, gorgeous boy with a faux hawk and an eating disorder, then it would have been a miracle. He was pretty comfortable with his... heteroflexibility. But being in Hollywood meant picking sides for the camera and sneaking around behind them if sides weren't your thing. Chris wasn't a fan of sneaking. And he wasn't as beautiful as Zach. Chris was a pretty boy with Hollywood charm and no one in the business wanted anything more from him.  

And he was mostly okay with all of that. He would never deny sleeping with men on occasion, but he generally went for women, to the pleasure of his assistant who constantly harped on him about PR. So, his sexuality wasn't the issue. He was attracted to Karl. He understood that. Who wouldn't be? This was Karl _fucking_ Urban he was talking about. Karl was sex wrapped up in a dashing Kiwi package that included forever sun-kissed skin, freckles and lips that people literally waxed poetically about-- Chris wasn't ashamed of that. But Karl was off limits and his mind had labeled him as such. Something else was going on and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Whatever it was, it was elusive and taking up an annoying amount of space in his head. 

So Chris did the only thing he knew to do when brooding wasn't getting him anywhere and the situation involved man-love.  

Ginsberg. Whitman. Siken. The first two men that defined Chris' first gay freakout, any subsequent freakouts and any relationship he'd ever had-- men or women -- since going to college. The last, Richard Siken, being a recent obsession that was completely Zach's fault. Nevertheless, poetry was the answer. It was almost always the answer, but between wrapping filming and going on one of the largest press tours ever, Chris had been a little too busy to feed his literary kink. The closest he got was his vocab-wars with Zach.   

But Ginsberg, Whitman and Siken would take care of him. They would show him the way. They would lead him as they knew they had led when they wrote their books. Chris had faith.  

<3<3<3

 

"Oh my lord, someone help me!" Chris screamed into his phone, and tried to smother himself with the nearest throw pillow.  

"We're on our way," Zoe's voice said as it floated through the phone which was placed on the coffee table, the speaker phone making her voice distorted and strangely melodic. "Do you need me to bring anything?" 

"I'm full of angst. I am too stupid to live," Chris moaned. 

"I'm with Zach now and we'll make a stop before we get there." 

Chris nodded before screaming into the pillow. He listened as car doors slammed and Zach's voice mumbled something to Zoe on the other line. His life was a farce. Seriously, it was like some Greek tragedy that Chris was stuck in just because he looked pretty in a toga and liked to sing.  

"Zach wants you to know that suicide is not the answer," Zoe said, and didn't hide the amusement in her voice. 

"Oh my god," was Chris' only response. 

<3<3<3

  

Chris was drunk. And pathetic. 

But that didn't stop Zoe or Zach from torturing him.  

"You are so gay," Zoe said from somewhere above Chris' position on the floor. He could hear his blender blending something alcoholic and deadly. Probably gin. Zoe was such a lush.  

"Me or Mr. Pine?" 

Zoe laughed and Chris was hearing ice cubes. His mouth watered.  

"You, you useless piece of manflesh." 

"Excuse me, what the hell did I do?" Zach replied.  

Chris sat up and blinked the drunkeness out of his vision. Zoe appeared to be pouring some sort of concoction into a martini glass for Zach and drinking the rest out of the blender. She was so classy at the moment, drinking out of a blender and still managing to look like a fucking Calvin Klein model. What the fuck. 

"You," Zoe continued by pointing at Zach who was appeared affronted. "This is probably your fault."   
   
"How is Chris' oblivious, California sunshine nature is my fault?" 

Chris wiped his mouth and struggled to get off the floor. Would someone help a brother out? 

"Maybe your immense camp of campy flamboyant man prowess rubbed off on Chris during all those interviews." 

Zach threw his hands up in the air. Chris choked on his own spit. Neither looked Chris’ way as he felt his face turn bright red, his body heavy with coughs as he slid onto the couch.  

"Please, don't think I haven't seen your kind before, Zachary!" 

"And what kind would that be?" Zach's tone was slightly dangerous. Chris looked over the edge of the couch to see Zoe, lighting a fucking cigarette in his kitchen and not even blinking at Zach's intimidating Sylar-stare.  

"Queeny tops with no respect for the cunt."   

They both burst out laughing simultaneously, clutching their sides and trying to chug their drinks at the same time as they sank to the ground. Chris was in the Twilight Zone. There was no other explanation. Not a single freaking one.   

"You probably turned him," Zoe said from the floor. It was issued like a sigh and Chris was getting increasingly annoyed that he couldn't muster up the sobriety to go over there and beat the living crap out of her. 

"Nah," Zach replied as Chris slipped off the couch and crawled toward them. They had migrated to the floor space between the sink and the breakfast bar, passing Zoe's blended concoction between the two of them, their shoulders pressed together and of course, still managing to look like they walked straight out of a fashion magazine.  

"I didn't turn the little princess over there," Zach said and waved in Chris' direction but didn't look up from his hands. Chris glared.  

"No?" Zoe licked her lips and leaned her head against Zach's shoulder.  

"Nope. He was gayer than a maypole before I got to him. But Karl, Karl was the one who made him dumb-- who scrambled his brains with that accent and beautiful skin," Zach paused. "Hey, what do you think the secret to Karl's skin is anyway? I mean-" 

Chris finally made it close enough to them to slap Zach's ankle.  
   
"Oh my fucking god, shut the hell up. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Chris yelled before his hand slipped and he dropped to the ground, Zach's foot digging into his collarbone.  

"Well hello there," Zoe said.  

"Charming," Zach replied as he flicked Chris' ear. Chris was waiting for death to just take him.  

"Baby?"  

"Zoe, how did I not know?" Chris mumbled into Zach's calf, nuzzling his face into a more comfortable position and taking a deep breath.  

"That Karl was divorcing Nat or that he was divorcing her because he'd fallen in love with you?" Zach interjected. Chris heard himself make a broken cry-- very similar to a kicked puppy. Zach was a bitch. And he was glad to hear Zoe smack him and admonish him for being mean to Chris.  

"Baby, we already talked about this," she soothed and patted him gently on the butt.  

Chris moaned in pain but accepted the straw that Zach had shoved in his mouth and gulped down something that tasted mostly of gin.  

"I wish I had a Sylvia Plath," Chris muttered, and clung to Zach's hand. Zoe sighed. 

"If it will sooth your little rainbow bleeding heart, I'll put on a dress and stick my head in the oven," Zach said, despite hating it when Chris referenced obscure emo-singers he was obsessed with during his brooding. Hell, Zach hated it when Chris mixed pop-culture and poetry references at all.   

Chris cracked a smile.  

"Got another cigarette?" he asked. There was shifting and suddenly Zach was there, slipping the Parliment into his mouth and lighting it for him.  

"God, you're going to puke glitter tonight," Zach said. 

Chris tried not to choke on the smoke.  

<3<3<3

 

Chris adjusted his glasses in his review mirror. They looked ridiculous on him, but he didn't have a choice. The night Zoe and Zach got him drunk, he slept in his contacts and completely ruined his last pair. It was glasses or blindness. And since he wasn't very smooth to begin with he figured he could use all the help he could get. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket. And just to prove his elegance, he struggled in his tiny car, in his impossibly tight jeans to dig his phone out of said pocket.  

 _1 new text message_    
 **ZACH:** If I find out you wore that ugly grandpa sweater and v-neck combination to seduce Karl I might actually report you to the Gay Mafia.  

Chris stared down at his white v-neck and grimaced. The aforementioned sweater was laying in the passenger seat. Chris stuck his tongue out at the screen. Whatever. He was pretty sure that Karl didn't divorce his wife just to deny Chris because he had a terrible fashion sense. He was a love-sick hipster. Why couldn't Zach understand that? Zach got dressed with his eyes closed! Zach wore _light jeans_! Where the hell did he get off- 

His phone vibrated again.  
    
 _1 new text message_    
 **KARL:** y r u sitting outside my house? 

Chris jumped, whipping his head in both directions so hard that he hit his head on the ceiling of his car.    
"What the fuck?" Chris exclaimed as he took a deep breath and rubbed the top of his head. He scowled at his phone, before grabbing the sweater and getting out of the car before he chickened out and drove back home. 

The town home that Karl was renting was small and sat far back from the street. Chris tried to act casual as he walked up the sidewalk, squinting to see if Karl was watching him through the window and simultaneously trying to calm his racing heart. It wasn't like Chris didn't know the score. He'd figured it out halfway through Siken, obsession floating in and out of his mind before things just clicked. Karl was in love with him. So, it wasn't like Chris had to worry about rejection. And yet, there he was, sweaty palms and grandpa sweater included, walking up to Karl's home, thinking about rejection and hurt and not understanding exactly what he had unknowingly gotten himself into.  

Chris wondered if he would ever, ever grow out of his awkward phase.  

He was in the middle of a tiny debate of whether or not to knock when the door swung open, and Chris was presented with a rush of sensations that had his head spinning and his heart racing, despite all the calming he did on the walk up. The first thing that hit Chris' muddled mind was that Karl was barefoot. And it was incredibly sexy. His jeans were worn and tattered, holes worn in scandalous places that warmed Chris' heart while simultaneously setting his loins afire. Karl's black undershirt didn't help. He looked like a fucking wet dream, standing invitingly in his doorway with tousled hair that was just on this side of debauched. Chris was doomed. 

"Hey," Chris said. His hands were working their way into his pockets. He couldn't stop them. God. He was 13.    
Karl smiled and leaned against the door jam. Chris couldn't help but lick his lips. Karl looked so relaxed.  

"Hey yourself," Karl replied. Chris rocked back on his heels. 

"Sorry I didn't call. I hope you're not busy or anything, I just wanted to stop by and of course, God, I can't believe I didn't call. That's so rude of me, really-" 

Karl held up a hand and the babbling trail of noises that were coming out of Chris' mouth ceased. Thank goodness. What was wrong with him? _Everything_ , a voice in his head that sounded particularly like Zach responded.  

"It's not a thing, Chris. I was just catching up on some reading." Karl gestured inside where the couch looked cosy and comfortable with a throw rumpled on it and a book on the coffee table. Chris suddenly felt as if he were intruding on something private. 

"I can go if you want to finish your book," Chris said sheepishly, already turning towards his car to flee. Zoe was wrong, he wasn't ready for this.  

Karl frowned. "Chris, come inside. You're starting to scare me, is everything alright?" Karl said, and opened the door wider only to come _toward_ Chris and fucking touch his arm.  

And then it was like something snapped, all the brooding falling into place and a million snapshots of memories from the tour just rushing into his mind that he had probably been repressing with the amount of booze he, Zoe and Zach had consumed the past three days. Rage bubbled up inside of him as nervousness turned into anger so quickly and everything seemed to slot into place.  

"No, Karl. Nothing is alright. Why didn't you tell me that you and Nat were getting a divorce?" The _because of me_ went unsaid but still lingered in the space between them. Chris wiped at his face. God, this was all Karl's fault. If he could have just kept his feelings to himself then Chris would have never, ever thought that he had a chance-- the chance to take Karl out of the straight-married category and put him in the perfect-lover, happily-ever-fucking-after category. 

"Perhaps we should move this conversation inside," Karl said cooly, and Chris blushed, realizing he was throwing a fucking hissy fit on the front porch of Karl's rental town home. Fuck. He pushed himself inside, not really waiting for Karl to move and the resulting touch had Chris reeling, thinking of all the times Karl had touched him on the tour-- innocent little touches that now, in this new harsh light, didn't seem very innocent at all. Chris didn't know if he was mad because he was the other woman and didn't know it, or because they had wasted so much time pandering to Karl's guilt complex.   

"Chris-" 

"Don't, alright." Chris held up his hand.  

He was between the kitchen and living room with Karl still standing by the door, looking ready to make the easy escape or as if he was there to make sure Chris didn't. Either way, the tension mounted and Chris found himself without anything to say. The spaces around him looked half lived in, there were boxes piled up in various corners, but only the essentials were unpacked.  

"What were you waiting for?" Chris asked as he motioned to the nearest set of boxes. THe double meaning hung in the air. Karl sighed and stepped toward him. 

"I've been busy."  

Chris nodded at the lame excuse and pulled his sweater closer to him. He felt like this moment was insurmountable and it was exhausting. Emotionally pining on a booze bender for three days over a man who had been in love with you for God knows how long was tiring-- or at least, that was Chris' excuse.    
"Why didn't you tell me?" Chris finally whispered. Karl moved closer, getting as close as he dared and looking at Chris like he was some sort of startled deer that needed to be coaxed and coddled.   
   
"The timing didn't seem right," Karl said. Chris nodded and looked away, suddenly too aware of how close Karl was to him and that they were, in fact, breathing the same air. That they had been breathing the same air for a long time.  

"Karl-"  

"What?" Karl started, and the sharpness of his tone made Chris snap back and look him in the eye. The clouded storm that was raging in his hazel eyes was enough to take Chris' breath away. The high pink color to Karl's cheeks didn't help. "What do you want me to say? I wasn't ready to tell you. It wasn't easy letting Nat go, even though I felt like fucking Jimmy Carter and that I didn't want to put you-" 

"Jimmy Carter? What the hell, Karl?" Chris hissed back. He didn't want to play in metaphors today. He wanted this straight, no chaser, and he wanted it now.  

"Not brushed up on our Presidential history, are we?" Karl said, a smile quirking his lips. Chris didn't smile back. He was too busy wanting to punch the shit out of Karl, while simultaneously resisting the urge to lick those dimples right off his face.  

Karl wrapped an arm around Chris' bicep and leaned forward, until his lips were almost touching his ear. Karl was just barely taller than Chris, but it felt like he towered over Chris in that moment. "Jimmy Carter gave an interview with Playboy, saying even looking and not touching was a form of cheating. Cheating inside the heart."  

Chris wasn't sure if it was a confession or simply a way to get his knees to buckle. Either way, he leaned into Karl's touch like a starving man and Karl was there, steadying him with a hand wrapped around the back of his neck. Chris' own hands settled against Karl's chest-- he wasn't sure if it was a gesture of surrender or defense.  

"I feel dirty," Chris murmured, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a hot rush. "Like I was seducing you without even knowing it. I'm a fucking homewrecker and I didn't even realize it until it was over."  

The grip on his neck got tight and his own hands flexed in Karl's ribbed undershirt.  

"Karl-"

"You're not the reason," Karl growled like it was wrenched out of him. Chris tried to look up, to stop staring at the rise and fall of Karl's chest and shoulders, but Karl's hand around the back of his neck kept him in place.

"You're not the reason I got a divorce. I didn't stop loving Nat to love you. I didn't stop loving my children to love you."  
    
The pause was strangled and Chris let out a sound too close to a sob.  

"It didn't seem to make much of a difference when there were no other options. Nat and I- fuck Chris, we haven't worked for a while. Just two ghost ships sailing right by. But then you were there and heavens, it was like a breath of fresh air," Karl continued, and Chris gripped his shirt so hard he thought he might tear it. "You weren't the other woman or whatever the hell category you've sorted yourself into. I fell in love, Chris. What the hell more do you want me to say?"  

The silence settled heavy around them. Chris felt like some harlot, panting in between the pages of a handsome but dangerous man, wanting for the ending to fall apart around them. Hell, Chris probably knew from the beginning that this was Casablanca, not A Streetcar Named Desire.  

"Chris," Karl whispered desperately, and moved until they were staring at each other's faces. Chris didn't want to feel like this anymore. 

"Shut up," Chris said. "Just shut your damn mouth."  

And then they were kissing, hard and open-mouthed but without tongue. It was strangely chaste for the amount of confusion and anger roaring through Chris' body. This stupid brute of a man with a million desires and a heart of fucking gold and just- Chris was tired of thinking about it. He just wanted to get what he deserved. He wanted to actually commit the crime he was sure they were accused of. His hands moved from Karl's chest to his face, holding onto him almost fiercely and ignoring the comment in his head, again Zach's voice, that said: _Hold onto your man, baby._

They moved at a glacial pace, the torture drawn out and searching until Chris had to pull back to breathe. Karl's eyes were wide and his lips pink from abuse. It didn’t feel like enough and Chris' mouth latched on before they could fully separate, his teeth sinking into Karl's bottom lip and tugging. The moan that Chris bit into Karl was enough to promote action. 

Yeah, Chris was an angsty mother fucker, but sometimes the best way to exorcise demons was to _exorcise them_. 

Chris gulped in a few breaths, his lungs burning, before he returned his mouth to Karl's. This kiss was everything chaste didn't entail; it was practically violent. In between soft, swollen lips there were stinging teeth and tongues that plundered mouths and fucked lips open until Chris was groping at every bit of Karl he could reach and Karl was snarling, bending Chris over the arm of the couch and causing them both to be tumbled over it. Chris landed with an 'oof', his chest heavy with Karl's weight and his hips arching like a cheap whore to get closer, forever closer to Karl's. They both moaned at the contact, thrusting against each other like teenagers as they both grappled with clothing, pressed too tightly together and angled too strangely to be efficient.  

Karl pulled away to take off both of their shirts but got lost on the way to reconnection. Instead Chris found himself moaning as Karl's lips made their way over his jaw and traced sinful lines up and down his neck. Karl's hands were busy holding himself up and over Chris so that he could breath and move his hips in time with Karl's. God, if he wasn’t careful he was going to come in his pants. 

Chris' hand found it's way to Karl's ass and he pulled, both hands grabbing and pulled, pulling, pulling against his own thrusting hips. A moan ripped out at the friction that was practically embarrassing and Karl was sinking his teeth into the skin of Chris' neck and sucking.  

"Karl," Chris gasped as pleasure and pain mixed across his skin.   
   
"Mine," Karl moaned when wrenched his mouth away and moved across to Chris' collar bone, to suck a mark so hard into Chris' skin that he was sure not even the best make up artist in the world could cover it.  

Karl shifted and almost fell off the couch as he ripped into Chris' jeans, their tight fitting nature making both Chris and Karl pant with impatience and humor. Like they had come so far, only to have pants impede them. Finally, Chris could lift his hips and both pairs of hands were desperately pushing them down his thighs but Karl's fucking mouth distracted them both, sucking a huge mark onto Chris' hip bone that had Chris keening and abandoning his jeans somewhere around his knees when Karl moved without fanfare to suck down Chris' cock.  

"Fuck, Karl- oh my god," Chris moaned, and grabbed at Karl's hair, shorter now since the movie was over but still thick and solid in between his fingers as Karl worked his mouth over Chris' hard length like a man possessed. There was nothing technically appealing about it, there was not an ounce of finesse-- just the hot heat of Karl's mouth and the slash of his tongue on the underside of Chris' cock, lapping at the head, and when Chris thought he'd die from Karl's mouth, from just the thought of this, Karl's eyes snapped open and his cheeks hollowed out to provide enough suction to literally suck the pain and anger right out of him.  
    
Karl's hands weren't idle. One was fisting over his jeans-clad cock - the friction couldn't possibly be enough - while the other pulled and tugged almost painfully on Chris' balls before moving back to play with the dry heat of Chris' hole.  

"Oh god yes, just fucking take it," Chris groaned as Karl kept eye contact, and Chris practically lost his mind. His hands tightened on Karl's head, moving it where Chris wanted him to go, and everywhere it went on the length of his cock was heat of novas and sweet suction. It wasn't long before Chris was thrusting up and holding Karl's head down, fucking his mouth like Karl was just a whore. And of course, he couldn't take it. Chris watched, an out of body experience, as Karl choked several times on the length of Chris' thrust and the hard twist of his hips. Karl's eyes were watering, but he didn't take his eyes way from Chris' and the spasms of Karl's throat around his cock were hurtling Chris towards the edge.  

One particularly hard thrust had Karl choking, his hand slipping and his finger breaching Chris dry, and Chris was coming down Karl's throat, practically choking Karl with his come and riding out his orgasm as Karl continued to work his finger in Chris' hole.  

Chris couldn't breathe, his own groans had his throat twisted and dry. But Karl didn't let up, simply scrambled up Chris' body and managed to tug him out of his pants in record time. 

"Karl," Chris moaned at the sight, Karl moving to straddle Chris' chest and taking his own aching cock in hand. There was a moment, where Chris had his hands pulling at Karl's ass that he wanted nothing more than Karl to sit on his face and just fuck him. But Karl held back, his hips moving closer but not coming close enough for Chris to use his mouth on Karl's gorgeous cock. Instead, Karl just stroked himself, hard and heavy over Chris' panting body until he was coming with a groan, 'Chris' and 'mine' rolling off his tongue as he came in arcs over Chris' neck and lips.  

Karl didn't move from atop Chris, he simply leaned down and kissed him. It was languid and sweet, despite the fact that it tasted of Karl's come and the rest of which was sticky and making disgusting noises between them as they made out on the couch, half clothed and completely debauched. 

When they broke apart, Chris couldn't stop smiling. 

"So," Karl murmured, his face still hovering over Chris' and completely covered in sweat and come. "We might have some issues to work out, yeah?" 

Chris' only answer was to kiss him, laughter bubbling out between them.  

<3<3<3

 

Hours later, Chris woke up with Karl's elbow jammed into his bladder. With a couple of kisses, Chris untangled himself and made his way to the bathroom, finding his phone on the way there when he almost stepped on it in the hallway. He picked it up, laughing at the blinking message on the front. 

 _5 new text messages_    
 **ZACH:** If he rejects you, tell him your face seats five. 

 **ZOE:** call me.  

 **ZACH:** Do you have your ruler? Tell me how big it is.  

 **ZACH:** Do not forget who got you there, you ungrateful fag.  

 **ZACH:** I hope you get a yeast infection.  

Chris happily left his phone underneath the sink and went back to a bed full of Karl. 


End file.
